


It's the Little Things

by LittleWritings



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, nonchronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWritings/pseuds/LittleWritings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of modern au pieces I'll be writing for my Hawke, Delia, and Fenris. Mostly likely harmless fluff mixed with a healthy batch of angst. Not in any particular order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, this is just some shameless fluff. I hope you enjoy.

Sunlight slanted through the gap in the dark curtains, dust held still in the rays of the sun. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, the messy room slowly coming into focus. Fenris scrubbed a hand across his eyes and ran a hand through his hair before he rolled over to take in the other side of the bed. The black sheets were disturbed, twisted and flipped away from the edge. Hawke was already up. Fenris ran a hand down the side of his face and fought a yawn before he flipped the sheets back himself and got up. He stretched up on his toes out of habit before padding from the room and down the hall toward the stairs. He could smell Delia’s cooking before he hit the first landing and could hear the sizzle of oil in a pan by the time his feet met the cool tile at the bottom of the stairs. 

He passed through the dining room, the table piled high with papers from cases and random junk before he turned the corner and saw Hawke. She was standing in front of the old gas stove, one hand on the handle of a misshapen pan while the other held a spatula that was pushing eggs around within. Her hair was a mess, it still held chaotic waves from her hairstyle the night before, it fell to just below her shoulder blades. She was wearing a t-shirt, one of his, he realized. It fit her surprisingly well, loose in the shoulders but growing tight around her hips, it was hitched up on one side giving him a nice view of her midriff. Her legs were bare, the panties from the previous night were on full display below the hem of the shirt. A tiny smile crept onto Fenris’ face. He could get used to this. Without announcing his presence, he came up behind her, gently pressing his face into the hair near her temple. He wrapped an arm around her waist while the other came to rest around the opposite hip, his fingers grazing her outer thigh. 

“Good morning.” His voice was low and husky from sleep and he kissed her temple, dragging his hand up to rest on her hip. Delia hummed in response, leaning back into him slightly. Fenris smiled a little wider and dropped a kiss to her cheekbone and retreated from her, his hands lingering on her skin a moment longer than was strictly necessary. He turned around, picking through the cluttered counter to find the cord for the coffee pot, retrieving it from beneath a pile of dirty dishes to plug into the outlet near the sink. The old pot beeped when it was plugged in, the cracked screen blinking once before the word READY flashed to get his attention. Fenris automatically dumped the old grounds and filter into the nearby and overflowing trashcan, heaping new grounds into a new filter and replacing it in the coffee maker. He flipped up the top and checked the water level to make sure the machine could actually brew coffee. When he was satisfied he pushed the button that had undoubtedly read BREW at some point. He then stepped around Hawke, running a hand from her shoulder to her elbow, squeezing the joint as he walked into the dining room. 

He stood puzzling over the table for a moment, trying to decide which stacks of paper could be relocated safely. Delia may have been on to something with the idea of cleaning. He rolled his eyes at the thought and chose to pull back the curtains on the window, the sunlight showing more dust than he would have cared to see. It mattered little, he knew Delia mostly didn’t care about his state of living, so long as he took care of himself. He was still getting used to the idea that someone cared about his wellbeing for his sake instead of their own. 

“Plates?” Fenris looked over his shoulder at her, taking in the cocked hip, elbow tucked into the curve there so the spatula she held was directed away from her face. He felt a smile pull at his features again as he tilted his head to the side and thought. 

“I honestly have no idea.” He replied, looking back into her face a little sheepishly. Thankfully Hawke laughed, shaking her head. 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to share the pan then.” She returned her attention to the pan on the stove, but spared him a glance from underneath her bangs, features soft as she smiled. He felt his chest tighten in a way that was becoming familiar to him. He abandoned the dining room in favor of ferreting out mugs for the coffee whose final drops were falling into the nearly full pot. Delia flicked the heat off on the stove and turned to find utensils to eat the fluffy scrambled eggs in the pan. Fenris caught her hands when she turned into him, running his thumbs across their backs before releasing them when he passed. He opened a random cupboard and was pleasantly surprised to find two clean, if a little dusty, mugs sitting on the bottom shelf. He removed them and glanced around for a towel to dust them off. He didn’t see one right away and decided to discretely dust them off on his boxers, wishing he had thought to grab a shirt before he’d left his room. Delia had found two mismatched forks, one long and spindly, elegant, while the other was slightly shorter with squared edges and lined engravings. She raised an eyebrow at him as she took in the mug he had been wiping on his upper thigh and he only shrugged. He wasn’t used to having guests. 

“Where are we going to eat?” She asked, throwing a look over her shoulder at the still messy table. Fenris removed the coffee pot from the machine and joined Delia in surveying the room before them. 

“The floor?” He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye to gauge her response. She rolled her eyes up at him and shook her head. 

“It’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” Humor tinged her voice as she stepped into the room and bent to sit down. Fenris followed her lead, gently placing the coffee pot between them as Hawke settled the pan of eggs on the floor and offered him the spindly fork. He let her take the first bite of food, busying himself with pouring the coffee. 

“Can I get you anything to put in the coffee?” He asked, moving his gaze from the drinks in front of him to her face. She was in the middle of chewing and raised a hand to cover her mouth before she responded. 

“Black is fine with me.” Fenris gave a short nod and pushed one of the mugs across to her. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” He said, pausing to snatch up some eggs on his fork. “Your lifestyle seems to demand black coffee.” He smirked at her expression and swigged his own black coffee while he waited for a response. 

“What do you mean by lifestyle, exactly?” She seemed indignant, stabbing the pan for more eggs. “Being a private investigator means keeping odd hours and going to great lengths to get the job done, especially in this city. Coffee is sometimes necessary.” Fenris couldn’t argue there, giving her a single nod of sympathy. “What’s your excuse?” Delia asked, bumping her foot into his shin. 

“Oh, this? It goes with my broody personality. Part of a contract I signed a long time ago.” He grinned wide when she whacked a hand across his arm, a chuckle escaping her. 

“Don’t let Varric hear you say that. He’ll make it even more wildly inaccurate.” 

“Ah, and you know me well enough to see through his inaccuracies?” It was a challenge, and she saw it as such, sitting back a little and chewing thoughtfully as she studied him, formulating a response. Eventually she smiled. 

“Yes, I think I do.” The simple statement took his breath from him for a moment before he recovered. Delia Hawke was a surprising woman. 

“Well, I suppose I only have one way of proving my brooding ways to you.” He successfully kept his face neutral as he said it, keeping the smile away when Delia’s own expression sobered, her eyes growing wide. 

“And how’s that?” She asked, tipping her head to the side. 

“Like this.” He replied, leaning forward to kiss her, a hand curling beneath her chin. She smiled into the kiss and Fenris was certain that he could get very used to mornings like this one.


	2. Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia has some fun with naming children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are lots of interesting names out there in the world... it gave me an idea about Delia and Fenris naming children. This is the result, though of course it can't be all sunshine and rainbows for these two, smh

“What do you think about Blayze? B-l-a-y-z-e.”

“Hawke.”

“You know, for a name. Or maybe I should spell it more like blasé. But it would be pronounced the same.” 

“Hawke.”

“Would people get it though? I don’t want our kid out there having a very intentional name and people not understanding—”

“Hawke.”

“I mean really. Blayze. Like fire. Like me and fire. Fire comes from me. Varric will probably get it—”

“Delia.” She finally looked over at him, her eyes wide as her mouth went slack. Fenris didn’t turn his attention from the road ahead, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel in impatience. They had been stuck in traffic on the way to Aveline’s baby shower for nearly 45 minutes. His patience was wearing thin. He heard Delia sigh and saw her lean her head against the window out of the corner of his eye. She seemed more tense than usual. Fenris, feeling resigned to being stuck for at least another fifteen minutes, let his hands drop from the steering wheel. He sat back in the driver’s seat and closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to keep his patience. As much as he loved Hawke, the close quarters in their current situation would likely drive him insane. He heard her sigh again but didn’t respond. 

“Do you like the name Blayze though?” He could have groaned. He couldn’t fathom why she was so stuck on the point of the names of their imaginary children. He lolled his head to the side, giving her a look he hoped didn’t betray his irritation too much. Her eyes flicked across his face in a second before she turned to the window again, her shoulders slightly hunched. “You don’t like the name.”

“It’s a name. Why does it matter?” It had just dawned on him that maybe this was Delia’s way of indirectly telling him she was pregnant. She wasn’t very good at being direct with important information. When her mother had died he’d found out from Varric in a bar instead of from her. That was during one of their rough patches, but it still stung. He’d thought they’d been together long enough that she could easily be honest with him, that she was comfortable enough with him to be confident in his ability to guard secrets. 

“I don’t know. I was just thinking.” Delia didn’t look at him, her words quiet and directed at the window. 

“Delia.” Fenris paused, waiting for her to look at him as the nervous ball of anxiety and… hope? curled in his stomach. She blinked and stared out at the cars next to them, obscuring the Kirkwall skyline beyond. “Delia.” Emotion was wrapped heavily around the word as it dropped into the silence between them. The more the idea permeated his thoughts, she’s pregnant, the more the panicked joy rose in his chest. A car honked behind them and Fenris jumped and grabbed the wheel again, stomping on the accelerator in a way that made the car jerk forward. He heard a quiet thunk from the passenger seat, but it hardly registered as he focused on maneuvering through the now moving traffic.

“Geez, Fenris.” Hawke rubbed her head and looked annoyed. He shot her a quick, worried look. 

“Sorry, I-I just—” Another car honked and Fenris had to tug the wheel to the right, swerving back into his lane. 

“Have you driven in Kirkwall before?” Hawke still sounded annoyed, her words lacking the humor that usually accompanied such questions. Fenris swallowed and tried to focus. The traffic could stop again at any time so he needed to use the time he had to his advantage. But the thought was still swirling in his head…

“Are you pregnant?” He blurted the question, immediately wishing he could reign it back into his thoughts. 

“What? No.” Delia looked at him with narrowed eyes, her tone somewhat biting. “We use birth control, remember?” Fenris resisted the urge to shoot her a deadly look, reminding himself of the need for patience. 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be the first time that birth control didn’t protect like it’s meant to.” He replied, judging the amount of space he had to change lanes to pass the car ahead of him. Traffic seemed to be slowing down again, they were reaching the center of the city. Delia only snorted, looking out the window again. 

“No, no baby here. But going to a baby shower does lead a girl to think.” Her statement led to silence. Fenris wasn’t sure how to proceed with the conversation. Delia was clearly irritated but it seemed she didn’t want to talk about it. The car coasted to a gentle stop as traffic froze everything again. Fenris drummed his fingers on the steering wheel again, debating. Seconds began to drag into minutes. 

“So, why don’t we have kids?” He swallowed after he asked the question, knowing he was probably pushing his limits. This was something personal for Hawke, discussing family could make her shut him out for days at a time. He understood why and usually gave her space, but in that moment his concern got the better of him. Delia turned to look at him, her expression something that would usually rub him the wrong way. She clearly had not wanted their conversation to go in this direction. 

“You are kidding, right? You know as well as I do why starting a family would not be wise.” She was giving him a hard stare, the kind she would usually give someone she was questioning for a case. Fenris pressed on. 

“I know Kirkwall is dangerous, yes, but we’ve made it this far, haven’t we? It would be a huge risk, a lot of responsibility, but I think we could handle it.” Fenris was not usually the one giving this type of speech, he was usually on the receiving end. But then, he hadn’t realized he’d felt this way until he’d started to think about it. He would accept the risk and responsibility that would come with children, he was happy to. But it all hinged on Hawke. She was looking at him with a guarded expression, she was weighing risks. 

“I didn’t know you wanted this, Fenris.” He hadn’t been expecting that kind of response from her. He held her gaze for a moment and then shrugged, looking back to the road ahead of them. He hoped she would reward his honesty with more than a simple observation. It wasn’t easy for him to be honest either. The cars in front of them showed no signs of moving but he studied them anyway, waiting to see if Delia would continue or let the subject drop. He’d said his piece, it was her turn to share her thoughts. The silence began to drag along and Fenris had to breathe deeply to avoid shaking his head. Stubborn woman. 

“Well,” she finally said, drawing his attention from the road ahead of them. “I suppose, if you’re willing to have tiny mage babies running around a city which hates mages, we might be able to work something out. In the future, of course.” She was smiling at him, a small, vulnerable smile but a smile all the same. Fenris smiled himself, content for the moment, but still wary of things left unsaid. Delia had perked up though, leaning towards him across the seat and reaching for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. 

“For now, let’s just focus on our friends’ baby and how I will certainly have to be the fun aunt and take the child on all sorts of fun adventures that parents on the guard would not approve of.” Fenris laughed and shook his head fondly, only imagining what kind of trouble Hawke would get Aveline and Donnic’s child into.


	3. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris and Delia go out for ice cream and each learns something about the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea occurred to me at work one day. I hope you enjoy!

The lazy afternoon hum of insects and sunlight was interrupted sharply by the shriek of a child. Fenris blinked hard and swiveled his head in the direction of the commotion, his brain struggling to recover from his absentminded thoughts. Not far from their table a small boy was crouching near a curb, wailing. At his feet was a slowly melting scoop of ice cream, the liquid puddling in the cracks in the sidewalk. The boy’s mother turned from her conversation with a friend to see what was wrong, crouching and speaking to him quietly and wiping his tears. In turn he stopped crying, his small voice a little louder than a whisper. 

“But I dropped my ice cream. I want more.” His mother shook her head and gestured toward the line of parked cars in the street. They must have somewhere to be. She was standing up, taking hold of her son’s hand. Fenris stood from his chair quickly, his thoughts just barely catching up with his actions. 

“Excuse me.” The woman turned around, her gaze curious. Her son looked up at Fenris and then moved closer to his mother’s leg, grabbing onto the fabric of her jeans. The woman raised an eyebrow when Fenris didn’t continue right away. 

“Sorry, this may seem strange but I saw your son drop his ice cream and I wanted to say that he could have mine if he wanted. I haven’t touched it at all, my girlfriend and I just sat down.” As he said it, he felt incredibly stupid. Why would a woman accept ice cream from a stranger? Let alone a stranger that was a least a head taller than her and sometimes characterized as menacing… He stood back a little and gestured towards Hawke, who was seated at the table, ice cream in hand. She smiled and waved at the little boy, presenting a friendly image to the situation. Fenris felt his face begin to flush as the silence grew longer, but he didn’t move. The boy was looking up at him with wide eyes, his gaze flipping between the ice cream Fenris held and Fenris’s face. His mother seemed to consider, she looked down at her son and then back at Fenris, her gaze calculating. 

“That’s really nice of you, sir, but—”

“It’s no trouble, really.” Hawke interjected from the table. She waggled the spoon she held in her hand. “We can share.” The woman bit her lip and then looked back to Fenris. 

“That’s very kind of you.” She smiled and reached forward for the ice cream, taking Fenris’s spoon and putting it in the bowl before handing it to her son. The boy could hardly contain his excitement, his legs shaking in anticipation as he took the bowl in his hands. 

“Is your favorite chocolate too?” He asked as he looked up at Fenris with a happy smile. Fenris found that his face mirrored that of the child, his own smile spreading. 

“Chocolate is my favorite. It’s the best flavor for sure.” The boy nodded at Fenris’s response, the spoon already digging deep into the ice cream. The mother smiled, resting a hand on her son’s head. 

“Thank you again.” She looked up at Fenris again and continued. “This will make the trip home much easier now. Enjoy your afternoon.” Her hand fell from her son’s head to hang by his shoulder, waiting expectantly for his hand. He complied and the two walked down the sidewalk before crossing the street and finding their parked car. 

Fenris turned back toward the table where Hawke was seated. She smiled up at him and pushed her bowl of ice cream into the middle of the table as he sat down. She then handed him the spoon, pulling a plate of french fries closer to her. She plucked one from the plate before dipping it into the ice cream and eating it. Fenris raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, picking up the spoon and scooping out some ice cream. 

“Is this satisfying your craving, my lady?” Delia smiled as she popped another french fry covered in ice cream into her mouth. 

“Why yes, I think it is, good sir.” She replied, rubbing a hand along her large belly almost absentmindedly. “This kid has good taste.” Fenris rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“Our child seems to have inherited your culinary tastes, that’s for sure.” He laughed and Hawke reached across the table to whack Fenris’s arm.

“You can’t judge it until you’ve tried it, Fenris.” She dipped another french fry into the ice cream and held it out to Fenris. He looked at it dubiously and then raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Delia’s face was completely serious as she replied. Fenris sighed and took the proffered food from her grasp, carefully taking a bite. She raised an eyebrow at him in question and he shrugged. French fries and ice cream wasn’t actually the worst combination of foods he had ever had. 

“You know, that was pretty good back there.” She said as he munched on the rest of his french fry. Fenris just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. She had a handful of fries and was methodically dipping them all in the ice cream. “With that little kid. It was nice of you to offer your ice cream.” Fenris only shrugged. “It’s good dad material.” Delia smiled, pleased with herself. Fenris chuckled and moved his chair closer to hers, leaning over to kiss her cheek. 

“Well I should hope so, you’re stuck with me either way.” He said. Delia laughed and leaned her head over onto his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiled at her response, his hand coming to rest on her belly as he kissed her temple.


	4. Call Me When You Get There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris wants to know when Delia gets home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little drabble of fluff, hope you enjoy!

“Are you there yet?” This was the third time he’d asked in under ten minutes.

“Honestly Fenris, you’re like a five year old. No, I’m not there yet, I’m digging out my keys so I can get inside.” Delia was pressing her phone into her cheek with her shoulder, nearly her entire arm shoved into her bag. Her keys had to have sunk to the bottom, that’s always how it worked. 

“Well hurry up and get inside.” His voice was impatient. 

“What’s the rush? It’s not like I’ll get jumped here. No one has been jumped in my building for a week or two.” She felt her fingers brush the cool metal of her key ring. Nearly there. 

“Not funny, Hawke.” She thought it was.

“Damn, I really thought I’d get you that time.” Success! The keys were clutched in her hand. Delia flicked them around in front of her face, trying to find the right one. When had she collected so many keys? 

“Are you in yet?” Four. That was four times now. 

“If I say yes, will you stop asking me?” She’d found the right key and had jammed it into her lock, slowly working it to the left to unlock her door, phone still mashed into her cheek. 

“Don’t make me come over there.” He didn’t sound like he was joking. 

“I honestly wouldn’t mind if you came over.” The door clicked and Delia leaned into it as she twisted the handle, the door swinging open for her. She turned on the hall light and promptly closed the door, turning the lock and sliding the deadbolt. 

“I heard the door close. Is it safe to assume you have finally made it inside?” Five, five times. He must have been really bored. 

“I am inside, praise the Maker, our savior!” Delia replied in a reverent tone, throwing her keys on the table in the hall and dropping her bag on the floor. She adjusted her posture so she was holding the phone to her ear instead of trying to fuse it to her face.

“Judging by the lack of lights on in here, is it safe to assume you decided not to come over and surprise me?” When Fenris was silent Delia groaned. “And here I was looking forward to your dramatic entrance through my door, your anger and passion at my inability to unlock the front door instantly merging together into a hot, steamy—”

“Hawke.” Delia fell silent, frowning slightly. 

“You always ruin the fun.” She said, turning into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator to scavenge for something decent to eat. 

“You seemed to have quite a bit of fun the last time I was over at your apartment.” Delia choked on the water she had been drinking. Fenris snickered, she could practically hear the smirk through the phone. He was playing dirty. 

“Maybe you should come over here and prove me wrong then.” She said when she could breathe again. Fenris sighed.

“Delia, you know I can’t. I have got to be up early to track down any details about these missing women that templar, Emeric, keeps going on about.”

“See? Fun ruiner.” Delia had found an apple and took a large, loud bite from it as she left the kitchen. She turned on a lamp and promptly flopped on the couch, waiting for Fenris to respond. 

“I just wanted to make sure that you got home safe.” Fenris said quietly, not taking her bait. 

“I can take care of myself you know. While I seem to find trouble more frequently than the average person, I can handle it.” She took another bite of her apple and stared absently at the magazines scattered on her coffee table. 

“I know you can take care of yourself, Delia. But that does not stop me from worrying. There are more than enough idiots in this city who would not think twice of causing trouble for you.” Delia couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across her face. 

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“I don’t know that you should be thanking me, but you’re welcome.” Fenris replied. Delia let out a low laugh and took another bite of her apple before she said anything else. 

“It’s nice to know you care, Fenris.” Delia had snuggled into the couch, munching on her apple and waiting for Fenris to respond. She hadn’t expected this turn in the conversation.

“Yes, well,” he said after a while, his speech halting. “Now you know.” Delia chuckled in spite of herself. This was a serious little chat but the laughter bubbled up and out of her unbidden. 

“I’ll try not to abuse your worries.” She said eventually. This time a snort escaped Fenris. 

“And I will try not to hold my breath in the meantime.” 

“Hey!” Delia’s indignant reply elicited a genuine laugh from him and she found herself smiling instead of pouting. “That was uncalled for.” She said, trying and failing to sound upset. 

“Evidence shows otherwise.” This time Delia really did pout. It seemed Fenris was using this as an opportunity to get back at her for her teasing earlier in the conversation. 

“I think I might just have to hang up now. You’ve hurt my feelings.” She sniffed, trying to make it sound as if she had been crying. 

“If you like. It is nearly two in the morning and I do need to sleep at some point.” Delia was taken aback, pulling her phone back from her ear to see the time. 1:42, he wasn’t lying. “—way I know that it takes much more than a statement of fact to hurt your feelings, Delia.” Fenris had continued speaking. She narrowed her eyes but didn’t say anything, trying to think of an appropriate response. 

“I will take your silence as agreement.” Fenris didn’t give her enough time to come up with a snappy comeback so instead she sighed. They lapsed into silence and Delia contented herself with finishing her apple and listening to Fenris on the other end of the phone. He must have put her on speaker phone or something because she could hear drawers opening and closing, a faucet turning on and then off. Eventually she heard him settle again and she figured that he had settled into bed. 

“Delia?”

“Mmm?” She had been dozing, having pulled a blanket over herself while Fenris was preparing himself for bed. She adjusted herself on the couch, propping herself up on an elbow to turn off the lamp. Her body felt too heavy with sleep to move to her bed. 

“I thought you had fallen asleep.” Fenris said quietly. 

“Almost.” Delia replied, stifling a yawn.

“Well, I will let you go then. I am sure you we both have business to attend to in a few hours.” Fenris said and Delia groaned. She didn’t even want to think about what she would have to be doing in a few hours. Fenris chuckled.

“Goodnight, Hawke. I will see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow. I’ll bring the coffee.” She said, adjusting the pillow beneath her head.

“All right.” Fenris paused as if he was going to say something else. Delia gave him a moment before she spoke. 

“I love you.” The words were quiet, they still felt new to her. They weren’t words she had much use for in the past. 

“… Yes.” Fenris replied. A beat passed before her phone beeped to signal the call had ended. She put the phone on the coffee table, just within reach if she needed it. While her words were strange to her, she could only imagine that they were nearly impossible for Fenris. His past had not leant itself to such feelings, though he showed them in other ways, simple phrases like “call me when you get there.”


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after you fight the Arishok   
> *Mentions of blood*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite long, you've been warned.

They were all watching, but she didn’t care, she ran to him anyway. Or at least she tried. She took a step and a half before she crumpled to the ground, her legs unable to support her weight any longer. Fighting the leader of a military group was not as easy as it looked… not that it looked all that easy to begin with. Her clothes were sticky with her own blood, they clung to her in a less than flattering way. Similarly incoherent thoughts continued to run through her mind as she slumped further into the floor, her vision blurring at the edges. 

“Hawke!” The word filtered through her confused senses and she tilted her head to look upwards. Her friends were beginning to crowd around her. Varric looked vaguely amused, cracking a comment about material for his latest novel but his eyes looked worried. Aveline looked grave, she knelt next to Hawke and brushed fingers across her forehead, before standing again, wiping a hand across her pants and leaving a dark streak on her thigh. Aveline leaned in close to Fenris and murmured something to him before leaving Hawke’s field of vision. Delia looked at Fenris last, it took most of her concentration now. She couldn’t read his expression, but he dropped to his knees next to her, his fingers gently cradling her head as he pulled her into his lap. 

“Hawke.” The word slipped from his lips in a whisper, betraying at least some of his sentiments. She was having trouble concentrating. Fenris said something else but she wasn’t paying attention to the words, instead staring at his lips. 

“Delia.” It was short and urgent, drawing her attention, albeit slowly. Fenris’s brows were low over his eyes, knit in concern. “What were you thinking?” The words dropped into her brain one at time, her comprehension slow. 

“I…” Her voice drifted off. Fenris ran a thumb across her cheek and she managed to pull herself together again. “I wanted to see you.” Fenris’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowed. 

“You didn’t have to fight an Arishok to see me.” Delia blinked. 

“Oh.” That’s not what she had been talking about, but it was all she could think of to say in the moment. Suddenly she coughed, her body attempting to curl in on itself. All thoughts fled her brain as the pain took all of her attention. Her chest ached; her legs felt numb; one of her hands was caked in blood, knuckles rubbed raw, a few fingers were angled just slightly out of place. Delia managed to stem her coughing, eyes fluttering with the effort, she was suddenly so very tired. Fenris had slipped his hand into hers, the less damaged one, and was squeezing it hard. Delia noticed that her arm was drooping away from the rest of her body, a sharp throb just below her neck making its way into her thoughts. 

“Hold on Delia, don’t leave me yet.” The words were whispered again, Fenris bent his head forward, his face hovering above hers, tantalizingly close. She inhaled sharply and promptly winced, her ribcage refusing to expand any more. 

“Hey Broody, Blondie is here. With back up.” Varric had crouched within Hawke’s sphere of consciousness, his face visibly more worried now. “You’ve got yourself into some real trouble there Hawke.” He spared her a glance and a strained smile before he stood again, looking behind him. Fenris continued to squeeze her hand, his lips pressed thin as he followed Varric’s gaze. Delia’s eyes drifted closed, more and more of her injuries cataloguing in her sluggish brain. Damaged collarbone, damaged ribcage, mildly destroyed hand, damaged ankle, damaged foot on opposite leg, possible concussion, scrapes and bruises… Her thoughts derailed as she thought of a young Bethany pouring over books and papers about healing and the human body, most of them procured through questionable means by their father. She missed Bethany. Maybe I’ll see her again…

 

Delia came to much later, she struggled not to groan as she shifted her body ever so slightly as she awoke. She felt so sore, everything was throbbing. She cracked her eyes open for a short second and immediately regretted the decision, the harsh lighting making her eyes water. Where was she? Her brain was muddled and fuzzy, it struggled to put together coherent thoughts outside of the loop of pain she was feeling. Her bed was soft, the pillow softer, the sheets weren’t scratchy, but she wasn’t at home, she didn’t have horrible fluorescent lights at home. Delia twitched her fingers out towards the side, the one part of her that still seemed to be functioning all right, and her fingers felt cool metal. A rail? But she wasn’t at Anders’s small clinic, he didn’t have that harsh lighting either. So the hospital then. The effort taken to reach that conclusion alone had worn her out. This revelation brought with it the sound of a steady, mechanical beep nearby and the quick sting and tug of something sticking out of her arm. Delia was too tired to adventure further into discovering what was keeping her in the hospital, her sore limbs were enough of a clue. 

She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard the quiet click of a door opening and then closing again, feet padding across carpet toward her. From this she figured she had a private room. Could she afford that? She wasn’t sure. Everything was quiet again and she felt herself drifting, likely with help from the drug cocktail being pumped directly into her veins. Just before her consciousness drifted away with the drip of drugs, she felt thin, warm fingers thread their way through hers, giving her hand a strong squeeze. She fell away into sleep just before she could conjure enough energy to squeeze back. 

 

The next time Hawke awoke, the room was blessedly dark. She sighed and twisted her head into her pillow, a groan escaping her. She was still sore, but more stiff than before, she wondered how long she had been lying in one place. She cracked her eyes open, her vision adjusting slowly to sift through the shades of darkness to make out shapes. Instinctively, she raised a hand to her face to rub her eyes but quickly hissed and cursed at the stab of pain in the crook of her arm. She was still on a drip? She became aware of the beeping around her again and grimaced. They were still tracking her vitals too. How long had she been out? Delia blinked hard and then gathered herself to stretch her legs as far as the bed would allow. She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her as her muscles stretched and moved for the first time in who knew how long. It made her feel substantially better, though also made her very aware of how much healing she still had left. 

A light flicked on in the corner and she threw her free arm up over her eyes, the sudden light sending her heart racing. The machine picked up its pace too, the annoying beeping grating even more on her nerves. She focused on her breathing, trying to keep it even and deep, but her pulse was still faster than she would have liked, instinct probably. 

“Sh, shhh, it is all right.” A deep whisper came from her left and she nearly jumped out the bed, the beeping increasing again. Gentle fingers wrapped around her forearm and tugged upward, away from her face. Delia inhaled deeply, squeezed her eyes shut and allowed her arm to be pulled away. She wasn’t ready for the light, not yet. Her arm was straightened out to her side and fingers spread through hers again, giving her hand a small squeeze. It was comforting enough to bring her heartbeat back to normal, but still she kept her eyes closed. 

“I know you are awake, Hawke.” His voice only made her want to keep her eyes closed forever. She was not ready for this, for the “talk”. Still, she gathered herself and opened her mouth to speak. 

“Turn off the light.” Her voice was small and cracked, a tickle in her throat immediately resulting in a cough. Her throat was dry with disuse. The warmth of his hand left hers and darkness quickly returned to the room, though he returned as well, pressing a cool, plastic cup into her hand. 

“You should drink this.” Delia could have rolled her eyes, would have even, if the itch in her throat wasn’t so bad. She cracked her eyes open to make sure it was safely dark before she took a sip of the water brought to her. The water didn’t last long as the sip turned into a gulp, she hadn’t realized she was so thirsty. When she had finished she waved her arm out to the side, attempting to find a place to put the empty cup. He took it instead. 

“Feeling better?” He had pulled a chair over next to the bed, his hand had taken its place in hers again, his thumb running back and forth across the scabby skin below her knuckles. Delia couldn’t look at him, not yet. She cleared her throat. 

“Yes, actually.” She paused, searching for something else to say. He gave her some time to continue yet she didn’t say anything else until she heard him inhale to speak. “So I’ve got a private room? I’m not sure I can afford this.” There was silence for a moment, it seemed she had caught him off guard. 

“From what I understand, you will not be paying for anything while you are here. You saved the city from the Qunari so it seems like they will be covering the bill for this one.”   
Delia was quiet for a moment, thinking. It was nice to think that the city would finally be doing something positive for her. She flopped her head over on the pillow, now facing toward him rather than away. 

“And how did I end up here, exactly?” She was fine as long as she kept the questions coming. She was good at continually questioning people, it was part of her job. His grip on her hand tightened and she could read that his posture had stiffened from the outline of his shoulders, slightly darker than the wall behind him. 

“You don’t remember?” His voice was low, concern clear. 

“I remember how I got here, yes, but how did I get here?” For emphasis she knocked her elbow into the rail at her side, letting out a small noise of pain. He seemed to relax, his thumb resuming its trek across the back of her hand. 

“You were too injured for Anders to heal himself, so he could not sneak you away. But he was actually covering a night shift for someone in the ER when Aveline called it in so he has been keeping an eye on you, adding his own… remedies to what the other doctors have been doing. Their impressed with your “speedy” recovery.” Delia took a moment to absorb this before she spoke again, voice quiet. 

“How long have I been out?” She was afraid to hear the answer. 

“A little over a week.” His voice was still low when he replied. She supposed that wasn’t so bad… but then, she didn’t know the extent of her injuries. Not officially, anyway. “They had you under for the first few days, they had to perform some surgeries to reset bones and remove bullets, sew up stab wounds…” When he trailed off she gave his hand a little squeeze. He squeezed back and looked at her, his eyes glittering in the dark. “Once they had finished with the cosmetic damage they kept you under for your head. There were some promising signs so they decided to see if you could wake up on your own. That was three or four days ago, I can’t remember. They were starting to get worried that you might not wake up.” The last sentence carried a thick emotion that brought a lump to her throat. 

“Were the injuries really that—” He cut her off. 

“Yes, Delia, they were that bad!” His voice was urgent, sharp. “What were you thinking?” She was going to reply, but he shook his head, white hair catching in small amount of light seeping in from the door to the room. “You know what, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know. It was my mistake in suggesting a duel, but I don’t even want to know what could have possibly made it a good enough idea in your head to accept such a ludicrous proposition.” 

“Fenris, I—”

“Let me finish, Delia.” He was short with her, his voice intense. “You were in my arms when you lost consciousness. For all I knew, you had died, you had lost so much blood. Maker, it was everywhere.” Delia didn’t have anything to say, Fenris sounded haunted. “I have been here every day for a week watching them try to save you, the doctors with their medicine and machines, Anders with his additional magic. I have had to sit here and watch while you fight to survive and there has been nothing I can do to help. Day in and day out I have seen you get poked, prodded and tested, sometimes wheeled behind cold metal doors where you may not return. I have been helpless while you struggle and it has been killing me.” Delia had to swallow hard, she was struggling to keep the tears in her eyes instead of on her cheeks. 

“Please, Delia,” His voice had dropped to a whisper. “Don’t do that to me again.” He dropped his head to their joined hands and she had to press her other hand to her mouth to keep a sob from escaping. She carefully removed her hand from his, running her fingers through his hair and then tracing them down the side of his face and along his jaw toward his chin. She tugged his chin upwards so that he was looking at her and she sniffed, trying to get a hold of herself. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Her voice was watery, tears running down her cheeks and betraying her. Still, she continued. “After you left I never would have guessed—” Her voice hitched and she stopped. She had said enough. The beginning of their relationship had not been easy, differences of opinion making it hard at first though they found ways to compromise. It still hadn’t been enough though, there was no compromise the last time Fenris had walked out her door. She had let him go, there was no way she would make him choose between their relationship and his memories. A cool civility marked their relationship from then on, it was purely professional. But now feelings were running freely, perhaps the most freely they had run since the night he’d left. 

She could feel his eyes on her as she continued to cry, shoulders shaking, her hand pressed to her mouth. She couldn’t say anything else, so overwhelmed in the moment, the consequences of her actions finally reaching her thoughts. What had she done? She’d saved a city, yes, saved a friend, yes, but at what cost? Would she really give life and limb for a city that had made her life infinitely more complicated since she had arrived? What was she doing with her life? No answers presented themselves. Delia closed her eyes and turned her face away from Fenris, concentrating on pulling herself together. Her thoughts were not productive, she didn’t need them circling. Fenris moved, pulling away from the hand she had on his chin. She tried to keep her thoughts in check, He’s leaving again, knowing that a negative spiral now would not help her in the long run. He pressed his lips to her temple then rested his face there, his lips by her ear. 

“I have always felt this way, Hawke.” He whispered. Her shoulders hitched, a sob actually escaping her this time as she rolled to face him, pulling the needle from her arm as she reached to embrace him. She buried her face in his neck and tightened her arms around him. Fenris looped an arm around her back while the other circled beneath her arm, his hand cradling the back of her head. They stayed like that for a while, Delia’s tears running out in favor of enjoying the feeling of Fenris holding her tight to his chest. 

“Delia?” His voice was a gentle whisper, his cheek resting on top of her head. She made a noise to show she had heard him, but didn’t respond with words. 

“You should probably rest. They will want to run tests tomorrow and you will need all the patience you have to make it through.” Delia heard the smile in his voice and she snorted but smiled, pulling her head back a little from his neck. 

“I suppose it would be frowned upon if I woke up and immediately decided to throw some fireballs at the staff of this fine establishment.” Fenris let out a low bark of a laugh and pulled away from her, his hands settling just above her waist. 

“You have been so subtle up to this point, you probably should not blow your cover.” He replied, tone matter of fact. Delia rolled her eyes and pushed his hands away so she could lay back. 

“Sure, okay.” She settled back into the pillows, reaching a hand out for his. He took it and wrapped his hand around hers. “Are you going to sleep there?” She asked, tapping her fingers against the back of his hand. 

“I have spent every other night this week in a chair.” He said it with a shrug, but Delia was quiet. “At least now I can hold your hand.” At that, Delia allowed herself a small smile and settled in to sleep. She was sure the coming days would be an adventure all in their own. 

 

She wasn’t wrong. The following day they frowned at her for removing the drip from her arm and frowned more as they tested her. They insisted that they needed to monitor her vitals for any abnormalities for at least 24 hours. She got visits from friends and assorted politicians of the city and overall had her patience taxed at every turn. Her only incentive to get through it all was Fenris quietly standing against the wall behind her guests, keeping watch and offering sympathizing looks when he could. All in all her stint in the hospital totaled two weeks in length and even then the doctors were skeptical in letting her leave. They didn’t have much choice in the matter however, as the Champion, as she was now called, was needed elsewhere for official city business. 

 

They were all watching, but she didn’t care, she ran to him anyway. Or at least she would have. Instead, she walked carefully toward him, concentrating to keep her limp under control. The whole gang was there, Varric actually looking happy for the first time in a week. Aveline looked apprehensive, but each step Delia took brought confidence to the stern guard’s face. Isabela was grinning from ear to ear, though Delia could tell it was forced, guilt still hung around Isabela’s eyes. Merrill was wide-eyed as always, but this time her eyes were crinkled at the sides with pride. Anders was there and looking a little worse for wear, his hair was disheveled, scrubs wrinkled, but he also looked pleased. Carver had managed to make it, even, his face carefully expressionless, his body poised to catch her if she fell. Fenris stood a little ahead of everyone else, his face holding a quiet pride the closer she got. He must have been impatient though because he took the last few steps between them for her, enveloping her in a fierce hug.   
“Welcome back, Hawke.”


End file.
